


Sprout

by sooting



Series: Growth Stages [2]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 04:25:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12623148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sooting/pseuds/sooting
Summary: He's supposed to be fine. Of course, he isn't.





	Sprout

**Author's Note:**

> this is... Another Vent piece lmao. also the text names are kind of in reference to a joke me and my rp partner have so scotty, if youre reading this, i love you, <33333  
> also sorry for the abrupt end but i have nanowrimo to do fgjkdfgh  
> um yeah like comment subscribe until next time gammerrrzzzzzz

He’s supposed to be fine. Things _weren’t_ the way they were back then, things are _better_ . He’s months away from attending a college with the best plant biology program in the country, his mom looks happy for the first time in years, Jared is talking to him like a friend and not like a damn parasite, hell, he’s dating Connor Murphy who he’s had a stupid fucking crush on since 7th grade! His life is fine. _He_ should be fine.

 

But he isn’t.

 

Instead, he lays in bed and stares at the ceiling and wishes it had worked, a year ago. Exactly a year ago. He wishes he climbed just a little higher, fell just a little faster, hit just a little harder. Everything’s changed, but everything’s still the fucking same. It’s all so dull on his tongue, and when Jared smiles at him or his mom laughs or Connor tells him he loves him he feels like his chest is being pried open. He hates it, he hates how he hates the realness, hates the bricks that pile on him every morning and he keeps trying to knock them off but Evan Hansen feels like he’s drowning in concrete and mortar.

 

He rolls over onto his side. His phone lights up with the movement like a little beacon, a little lighthouse in Evan’s self-cried ocean. He wants to turn it over, shove it off the bed, ignore even the stirring of the water above him that could be a hand, could be a shark. He just wants to sink down and down and down. The worst part about this stupid ocean metaphor is that he won’t even be able to feel the burning of his lungs as he runs out of air, the heart thudding panic. Well. Well, well, he could. He could. Evan thinks about how nice, how _fucking nice_ it would be to take some rope from the garage, from the toolbox he and his mom had barely touched since his dad bailed on them. Thinks about driving to the little lake nearby that his Boy Scout troop had gone to over and over again, or maybe taking his time walking there. Thinks about what it would feel like to tie the rope around his ankle, rough and splintering. Thinks about the weight of a heavy rock dragging him down and down and _down_.

 

That was too much fucking work; he could barely brush his teeth in the morning. It would be better to just force himself to stand up, stumble to the bathroom like a corpse, and cram all his Wellbutrin down his throat until he passes out and chokes on his own vomit. Going out just like how he lived; disgusting, pitiful, and silent.

 

He picks up his phone and lets the light wash over him. He has a notification, from Connor. It makes the pressure feel a little less, the stupid ache in his chest abate for just a second. Evan taps in his password

 

[1:02 PM] jacket police: hey, you doing ok?  
[1:35 PM] jacket police: ev?  
[2:10 PM] jacket police: it’s okay if you dont wanna talk.  
[2:10 PM] jacket police: since todays, yknow  
[2:10 PM] jacket police: The Day.  
[2:11 PM] jacket police: but please let me know that youre not dead  
[2:12 PM] jacket police: bad word choice, fuck, sorry

 

Evan laughs, just a little. His heart swells at the same time it feels like someone poking at a cavity. He keeps reading.

 

[2:57 PM] jacket police: ok im kinda getting worried now  
[2:57 PM] jacket police: you dont usually take this long  
[3:00 PM] jacket police: literally just a single letter is a good response right now, im just worried  
[3:04 PM] jacket police: fuck, im sorry if im overbearing right now. i know how much i hate it when people do this to me  
[3:04 PM] jacket police: but you've been off recently and now youre not responding and its been a year today since you attempted so.  
[3:05 PM] jacket police: i think i have a right to be worried, right now  
[3:16 PM] jacket police: okay, if you dont respond in an hour i'm coming over to check on you  
[4:10 PM] jacket police: im on my way

 

Shit.

 

[4:12 PM] jacket thief: that wasn't an hour  
[4:12 PM] jacket police: im here being a good and supportive boyfriend, and this is the thanks i get? your sass?  
[4:13 PM] jacket thief: you should be used to it by now :p  
[4:13 PM] jacket police: god youre so cute  
[4:13 PM] jacket thief: sTOP  
[4:14 PM] jacket thief: and, you're here?  
[4:14 PM] jacket police: …….. yes  
[4:15 PM] jacket thief: how long??  
[4:15 PM] jacket police: …. half an hour  
[4:16 PM] jacket thief: i dont know if i should be exasperated or cry, so just come inside. im pretty sure the door is unlocked

 

He pushes himself into a sitting position, bringing his legs into a little cross, rubbing at the soreness in his eyes. He hears Connor click open the door, hears him thump up the stairs. He hears him come to a stop in his doorway, feels Connor's eyes on him. They don't burn into him, like other people's do. They feel soft, like grass tickling his feel as he runs and as Connor chasing after him and as they both fall, out of breath, giddy and laughing. Evan wishes he could feel like that again, wishes he had that fire. But the firewood is all damp and, besides, he had no spark rocks.

 

Then Connor slides onto his bed behind him, pulls Evan to sit in between his legs and Evan leans back so his back is against him. He feels engulfed, and it's not overwhelming. Its the same way he feels deep, deep in the forest, with all of the trees towering high above him and filling the air with gentle calm. He stills feels shitty, he still feels fucking _awful_ , but Connor manages to take away some of the sticky dread that coats him. Evan melts into him.

 

"Are you okay?" he asks, and Evan sighs at the feeling of Connor's voice buzzing against him. It's a soft question, but it's swollen with emotion and sincerity and he doesn't know how to answer, his thoughts spinning and jumbled together. He doesn't realize he's started crying until Connor turns him around, gently maneuvering his limbs, and pulls him into an embrace. He holds Evan close, one hand spread against the small of his back and the other threaded through his golden hair. He holds him like he's afraid he'll disappear at any moment, like Evan is something precious, like Evan is something worth protecting. It makes him cry more, wrings him out. He wraps his arms around Connor's waist and holds him just as tight.

 

And so he cries, and he cries, and he cries. Just like he did that day, up on that branch. He sobs and he shakes and the same thoughts rush through his head, the same desperate pain bleeding from his dumb, fragile heart. But it's different, now. It's better.


End file.
